


Bees?

by star_named_andy



Series: Barduil One-Shots [3]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barduil - Freeform, Cards Against Humanity, Explicit Language, M/M, alcohol use, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard has been recently dumped and his good friend Bilbo forces him to a get together he's hosting. Bard is sour at first, but a little bit of laughter and Cards Against Humanity manages to lift his mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bees?

**Author's Note:**

> I had this silly idea of Bard falling for Thranduil in a game of Cards Against Humanity and Khalie aka the former Kalkiel and current elfykings on tumblr, encouraged me to do it; against my better judgement (seeing as I have a bunch of fics to finish and a bunch more of ideas), I did it, so here it is!!
> 
> This ones for you, Khalie!! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this little piece :D
> 
> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content.

Bard sighed as he came to stand on the welcome mat at Bilbo Baggins’ doorway – he didn’t belong there. What was he doing? He should turn around, march right back to his car, and down half of the wine meant for the little gathering when he returned to his shabby, little apartment…or maybe he’d drink more than half, depending on how he felt by the time he got home.

He could hear jovial voices and music playing faintly inside the amiably lit bungalow. He scuffed his boots on the mat below him and looked down at it, frowning at the smiley face peering up at him. Parties were meant for happy people, not for sad saps that had recently been broken up with.

Bilbo begged and pleaded for Bard to shower and dress up to come to this get together, threatening that if Bard didn’t do it willingly, he’d storm up to his apartment and do it himself. Sure, Bard hadn’t really been out in a while other than to get things from the store and to go to work…a few days…a couple weeks…who was counting? And so what if he stayed in his pajamas? Tons of people went out in public in their pajamas! He was just feeling lazy and overworked. His break up had nothing to do with it, nope, not one bit.

Maybe he was in denial. Maybe. Regardless, he didn’t want to be there, but he honestly felt he had no choice.

Bard didn’t doubt Bilbo and his extreme stubbornness one bit; it didn’t matter if the door was locked or not, because Bilbo always found a way. He imagined he would make his buff boyfriend Thorin bust open the door so he could take Bard’s misery into his own hands. That was not something he was willing to deal with, so there he was. If he went home now, would Bilbo come after him? How annoying.

No, no. He was just trying to be a good friend and Bard knew that, so he knocked on the door and waited for his cheery friend to appear in the open doorway.

“Oh good, I don’t have to come get you after all!” Bilbo greeted and Bard shrugged, but he raised a brow as Bilbo analyzed his wardrobe. “I said to dress up nice. There are a lot of attractive people here, you know.”

Bard glanced down at his ripped jeans, his tight grey t-shirt, his leather jacket and his worn-out boots. He could have tried a little harder, but who cared? Bard certainly didn’t.

“I’m not aiming to impress anyone.” He said simply.

“It’s better than pajamas. Oh, and you brought…wine? An odd thing to bring, but okay. Thranduil will be happy. I shouldn’t let him see it though; he’s already tipsy enough and he’s a horrible drunk.”

“Who?”

“Is it Bard?” a deeper voice called. It was presumably Thorin who spoke, from what Bard could hear, and Bilbo leaned back into the hallway behind him.

“Yep, the guest of honor has arrived!” Bilbo yelled and a chorus of hoots and hollers resounded.

“Oh, Jesus.” Bard sighed, running his fingers back through his hair and blushing. He didn’t want to be an object of attention.

Bilbo grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. He didn’t even have time to take off his shoes or his jacket before Bilbo was guiding him down that familiar hall into the crowded living room. He instantly felt claustrophobic as everyone eyed him and yelled praises as they saw him; even people he didn’t know were coming up to him and hugging him! He wasn’t too surprised, seeing as the party had clearly started without him and the majority of the guests were intoxicated.

“Bard, BARD, buddy! It’s GREAT TO SEE YA! BILBO DIDN’T THINK YA’D SHOW!” Dwalin practically shouted in his ear as he pat him on the back heavily and Bofur zoomed past him, taking the wine bottle from his hands. He stopped, grimacing at the bottle, pursing his lips at Bard, and then handing it off to someone Bard vaguely recognized. Ori? Was that right? Who knew? It seemed everyone who hung around Thorin had weird names.

“What’s this, Bard? _Wine?_ Yuck, I’ll have none of it! Another beer is calling my name!” Bofur stomped away with his finger pointed in the air. He bumped into a lamp, but caught it before it could crash to the floor. “Sorry bout that, miss.” He apologized with a bow and then swaggered off.

Oh God.

Bilbo had fluttered off to hang on his burly boyfriend, who was probably the drunkest of everyone in the room, by the way he looked; his face was utterly pink, his ponytail messy, his stance wavering, and his cackle as boisterous as ever. Bilbo smiled at him like he was the cutest thing to walk the planet, anyway. It was probably funny to everyone for Thorin to be so relaxed. Bard could recall one time he’d been drinking with Bilbo, Thorin, and a couple of their buddies and he’d seen a bit too much of Thorin, and boy, was his ass hairy. He was hoping he would just keep his damn clothes on.

Bard caught Ori (he would call him Ori in his head for now) smiling at him and he neared him, patting his shoulder lightly.

“Wine is just fine. It’s a nice gift.” He assured him and Bard smiled back at him a little; he was a cutie for sure, but he didn’t have time to think on the matter any longer. Dwalin’s arm was still around him as he carted him around and introduced him to more people he didn’t know: Bifur, Bombur, Nori, Oin and Gloin. He hardly thought he would remember any of their names, since all Bard could focus on was the smell of Dwalin’s overbearing cologne and the alcohol vibrating off his breath. It didn’t help that Dwalin was wearing just a tank top and his huge arms were sweaty as hell.

The wine found its way into a bucket of ice on a table in the living room which was cluttered with all kinds of alcoholic drinks, snacks, and plastic ware. Bilbo was between controlling his boyfriend in his drunkenness and running around ordering people to use napkins and coasters. What a _disaster_. That could work to his advantage, though. If he could just get out from under Dwalin’s arm, he could make an escape in the madness.

He was only saved when Thorin approached and practically ripped Bard from Dwalin’s clutches, a scowl ruling his face.

“You d-duumbass, Dwalin! Leave the baby alone!” Thorin spoke, patting Bard absently on the head and accidentally smacking his face. Bard swatted his hand away and Thorin ignored it, staggering closer to Dwalin. “He’s _s-s-single_ now, so don’t hog him! You’re smothering him!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Dwalin protested and the two started arguing, so Bard slipped away.

He quickly made his way to the closest safe route: the bathroom hall. He hastily walk-jogged there and opened up the bathroom door, but was stunned to a halt, seeing someone already in there – two someones, to be exact. They were two brunette young men Bard had never seen in his life, both handsome and deeply invested in each other. The one sitting on the countertop pleasuring himself through his pants was obviously younger than the one who was slathering kisses over his neck.

“ _Mmh, oh, Elrond!_ ” the young one whimpered.

“Oh God,” Bard muttered to himself and swiftly backpedaled, overjoyed that the couple hadn’t noticed him.

As he stepped back, he bumped into someone and for some obscene reason, a _scream_ flew out of his mouth and he flailed his arms. It wasn’t like he was frightened that badly by bouncing into another person, but he was just tired of people already and needed to be alone! As he spun around, he was met by the face of yet another stranger, who was staring at him with wide, piercing blue eyes. This stranger was different. This stranger was _oh so devastatingly attractive_.

Bard’s jaw dropped and he stuttered with noises in his throat that were trying to form themselves into words; I’m sorry would have been good ones, but nope, Bard couldn’t say one damn thing. The thin faced, alabaster skinned stranger towered over him like a statue whose sharp features were carved by some immensely skilled artist with diligence and love. The man had a head of long, pearly-blonde hair that spilled over neatly over his broad shoulders over his black button up shirt. Speaking of buttons, the top three were undone, exposing the stranger’s smooth, hairless chest, his collarbone, and every dip and line that graced his flawless complexion. The only source of color on his skin was found on his cheeks, a pinkness that matched that of his lush lips.

“Don’t go in there.” Bard choked, nodding back to the closed bathroom door. “There’s, uhm…they’re busy, I guess.”

Bard shivered as the blonde bared his perfect teeth at him in a striking grin. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear with his slender fingers.

“Oh my god, who are you?” he asked and Bard’s throat had run dry.

“Bard.” He said, and very uncooly, at that.

“ _Oh_ , so _you’re_ Bard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bard defended, his brows furrowing. Bilbo must have made some horrible announcement to the whole lot about Bard’s situation. How dare he!

“It means you’re the angel that brought the wine.” The stranger answered and bowed slightly, taking Bard’s hand in his and peering up at him with a gleaming smile. “Wine is my favorite.” He said and then laid a delicate kiss on Bard’s hand.

The brunette scoffed and tore his hand away. He wasn’t there to flirt, dammit. He didn’t want to be there at all!

“Then you must be Thranduil. I’m glad you like wine, but I don’t want to be treated like some pitiful loser, okay?”

Bard didn’t let Thranduil say anything else, turning away and promptly walking down the hall and emerging back into the living room. He was bee-lining straight for the door, but Bilbo was standing right where the exit way was chatting with Ori. Dammit. He walked right up to his friend and opened his mouth to speak, but Bilbo started before he could make an utterance.

“Let’s play Card Against Humanity!” he declared and the room cheered in agreement.

Dammit. Dammit all to hell.

Everyone sat in a circle on the floor and the game was already settled in the middle so everyone could reach the cards. The couple from the bathroom had wandered out and joined them, flushed and exchanging kisses.

As Bilbo dragged him toward the ring of drunkards, he saw Thranduil, sitting there with the wine bottle he’d brought in his lap. Bilbo squished himself right next to Thorin, and Bard was pulled down next to him. He was sitting right across from the blonde, who smiled and wiggled his fingers at him. He looked away defiantly, refusing to get caught up in anyone’s charms.

Bilbo dealt the cards and explained the rules for everyone who didn’t know them: whoever was the “card czar” would draw a black card from the black card pile and read it aloud. There would most likely be a blank, or several blanks, to be filled in a phrase on the card and everyone else would look through their white cards and enter in whatever they thought would be the funniest or dirtiest card. Once all entries have been contributed, the card czar will read the phrase on the blank card aloud while inserting each phrase on the white cards they’d received each time. When the card czar picks which white card they deemed the best, the owner of that card gets to keep the black card which serves as a point in the game. Whoever earns the most black cards by the end of the game wins.

Bard thought it sounded ridiculous. He’d never played the game before, and so he’d just have to muddle along and hope for the best.

“Who starts first?” Oin asked and Gloin reached out to be the first to grab a black card.

“I’ll do it!”

“No! The person who defecated last goes first!” Bilbo spoke and he lifted the rule packet. “Don’t give me funny looks, it’s a real rule! Now who was it? Did anyone defecate while they were here?”

“Stop with the pansy language! Just say shit, for cryin’ out loud!” Dwalin said and Thorin back handed him.

“I took a crapper around six!” Bofur declared as he rose his hand.

“It’s eight now. Did anyone _poop_ after six?”

“I’d say seven, maybe.” Nori said with a thoughtful nod and Bard was shrinking by the second.

“What about you, Bard?” Bofur called out and Bard’s face burned with blush.

“It’s not important, it wasn’t me.” He said quickly and Bilbo eyed him.

“Are you sure? Your tone makes me believe otherwise.”

“Come on, Bard! Tell us when ya shat last!” Dwalin roared and Bard shot him a glare.

“Before I came here, alright?!” he snapped and there was a rising of soft laughter across the circle. Thranduil’s blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he pressed his lips against the opening of the wine bottle, sipped, and muffled his giggling into the glass bottle. Great. Just great. Now everyone, including the beautiful Thranduil, knew when he last cleared his bowels and Thranduil was laughing at him. Not like it mattered. Bard wasn’t interested in him anyway.

Denial. Denial. Denial.

Bard drew a black card and sighed.

“My Friday night is not complete without blank.” he read plainly and everyone immediately started shuffling through their designated white cards.

Soon, he had a mess of twelve white cards in front of him to go through. This was dumb. How was it fun to read inappropriate things out loud? He put all of the white cards into a pile and picked out the first one.

“My Friday night is not complete without…Steve Buscemi? Ha ha, oh I love him!” Bard spoke, chuckling lightly and setting the card aside, moving on to the next one. “My Friday night is not complete without coughing into a vagina.”

A burst of laughter broke out from across the circle – no, not a laugh. It was a _cackle_ ; an unattractive, hysterical, and bizarre cackle that was coming from none other than Thranduil. He was given plenty of weird looks and a few people even laughed at him, including Bard; what an unexpected sound to hear from such a graceful looking creature. At first Bard thought he only laughed so hard because it might have been his own card and he thought it was just that funny, but that theory was proved wrong as soon as Bard read “ass sweat”, “acting like you didn’t cum already”, “crying while masturbating”, and “a Dothraki mating display”. His hideous, ringing cackle was startling every single time, but it never failed. As the game went on, his ridiculous laugh came bellowing out every single time there was a dirty card read. The whole game had to be put on hold when he burst into tears at: “Cancel all my meetings. We’ve got a situation with a sad handjob that needs my immediate attention.”

There were others chuckling here and there, including Bard, but everyone was becoming exhausted by Thranduil’s laughter alone – everyone but Bard. He was loving it and laughed more at Thranduil’s gleefulness than at the cards themselves. The way his face contorted and he cupped his hands over his face when he laughed was too adorable, even if the sound he was making was slightly horrifying. He seemed so suave earlier in the hallway, but now he was just an idiotic mess, a big, immature child laughing at every inappropriate thing read out loud and downing wine in between.

When it was Thranduil’s turn to be the card czar, there was a collective sigh around the circle, since everyone figured he wouldn’t be able to hold it together while reading them.

“Okay, okay!” Thranduil said, smiling widely and bringing the circle to attention so he could read his black card. “What’s the next Happy Meal toy?”

The blonde didn’t hide his excitement as he waited, his teeth biting down on his tireless smile. Bard sifted through his white cards, wanting to choose the perfect one to _really_ impress Thranduil and send him into a bout of laughter he’d never forget…a vajazzled vagina? No. Maybe…maybe Harry Potter erotica or a homoerotic volleyball montage? No, none of those seemed good enough, but Bard’s options were scarce…he looked at the card that had been buzzing in his mind all night, sitting in his hand and waiting for the right moment. He thought it was pretty funny (maybe it was the beer getting to his head) and he snickered to himself; it wasn’t dirty, but maybe Thranduil would still think it was funny. He tossed it into the growing collection of white cards being thrown at the blonde and waited.

As everyone expected, Thranduil couldn’t keep himself together. There were a few duds that he frowned at that didn’t make him laugh at all, but there were more that made him giggle than there were not. Bard waited, knowing his card was soon to come. Thranduil cleared his throat before going on.

“What’s the next Happy Meal toy?... _Bees?_ ” The blonde’s eyes widened and almost simultaneously, Bard and Thranduil blurted out into a wild fit of laughter.

Bard’s laughing was far more melodious than any sound Thranduil had made that night, but it could hardly be heard over Thranduil’s loud mouth. Needless to say, Bard won that round, and Thranduil made a point to hand him the black card he’d won and deliberately brushed their hands together, making Bard smile coyly.

Two turns later, Bard had gotten a hold of a card he just _had_ to use. He wanted to save it for Thranduil because it was downright nasty, but the situation was too right and he shoved it in the mix of cards being pushed toward Elrond’s little sweetheart, who he now knew to be Lindir.

“Because you enjoyed _anal beads_ , we thought you’d like _getting eaten out while on the phone with dad!_ ” Lindir exclaimed and covered his mouth in awe. Thorin whistled and Bilbo blushed with a contained giggle as he clung to his boyfriend. Thranduil’s jaw dropped entirely.

“Whose cards are those?” the blonde inquired, eyes searching around the circle until his interested gaze fell on Bard. The brunette smirked with a shrug.

“Guilty.”

“Why didn’t you give _me_ those cards?”

“I thought about it.”

“Do you two need some time alone?” Bofur interjected with a snort and Thranduil smiled with a flip of his hair.

“Apparently not.”

“Ooo, shoulda saved those cards!” Dwalin jested as he leaned over and punched Bard in the arm. As the fun went on, the little heat between the two was forgotten…well, not by Bard.

The game dragged on until Elrond stood and claimed he and Lindir were throwing in the towel for the night. It was pretty late by then and everyone was noticeably exhausted. People were groggily departing, giving their farewells to each other and to the host of the party. Bard couldn’t believe he’d stayed so long, but it actually turned out to be enjoyable and after a while, he wasn’t even thinking about leaving anymore; his head was too preoccupied with Thranduil’s infinite laughter.

Now, the blonde wasn’t so energetic. He was laying on the floor, shuffling cards in his hands with a nearly drained wine bottle next to him. Everyone had cleared out except for him, Bard, Thorin, and Bilbo. Thranduil didn’t move as Bard aided with the cleanup and as the brunette counted the empty beer bottles which were his, he was a bit unsure about driving home. He wasn’t so drunk he couldn’t function, but he was certainly over the legal limit that would classify him as drunk if he were breathilized.

“You should crash here.” Bilbo suggested, as if he knew exactly what his friend was thinking.

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ that. I’m tired anyway. You sure that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay!”

“What about him?” Bard asked, nodding to the other room where Thranduil rested.

“He’s staying the night since he came alone. He doesn’t want to drive either. I’m going to bring Thorin upstairs before he passes out, but I’ll bring some things down for you guys. You can figure out the sleeping arrangements, right?”

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks, Bilbo.”

Bilbo helped his boyfriend, who was now slurring and making zero sense, upstairs and Bard slinked toward the living room. He paused in the entryway, looking at the tall young man in a near state of dozing on the floor with his hair sprawled out like a halo. Bard only knew he was awake by the way he picked at the carpet with his fingers. He entered quietly and took to one of the chairs, finally lounging and giving a sigh.

“Tired?” Thranduil’s voice rose and he turned his head to look up at Bard. The brunette smiled weakly as he laid his head in his hand.

“Very. Not as tired as you, I imagine.”

“How do you figure?”

“You must have tuckered yourself out from all that laughing you were doing. A few times, I thought you’d pass out from lack of air.”

“The bees really got to me for some reason.” Thranduil said, laughing lightly, but stopping before he could get too riled up. He still had a bit of intoxication coloring his cheeks. “That was a good one.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. It was a risk. The wine probably helped.”

“It was so random that it was just absolutely hilarious…and maybe the wine helped. I still think you should have eaten me out.”

“What?” Bard blurted as he sat up and blinked with wide eys at the blonde, who chuckled very softly with a mischievous smile.

“ _Oops_. I mean, you should have given me that card. I must really be tired to mess up my words like that.”

“Mmhm.” Bard hummed, sitting back in his chair unconvinced.

“Are you staying?”

“Yep. I left you the couch so you wouldn’t have to lay on the floor, you know.”

“The floor is more comfortable. I appreciate the thought, though. Why don’t you come lay here? Unless my awful laugh scared you off, or if you still hate me from bumping into you earlier."

“I don’t hate you and your laugh isn’t scary. I think it’s cute.”

“You’re the first. If you think my laugh if cute, wait ‘til you see the rest of me!” he said, stretching out his long body on the floor and letting out a yawn.

“Oh, that’s very cute.” Bard commented, and well, it was.

“Come down here.” Thranduil said, reaching his hands toward the brunette and making a grabby gesture.

“I don’t wanna move.” Bard whined. Thranduil grunted through his smile as he stood, walked lazily over to the chair, and lifted Bard straight from it. “Hey, don’t drop me!”

“I may be a little more than tipsy, but I won’t drop you – _whoa!_ ”

Bard clung to the blonde as he jerked forward, but he hadn’t been released and thrown to the floor. Thranduil laughed at the fear that flared up in Bard’s eyes and sat on the floor with Bard still in his arms and on his lap.

“Very funny.” Bard pouted and blushed as Thranduil’s hands rubbed up and down his sides.

“This t-shirt flatters you. Nice and tight, like what’s hiding underneath, now that I feel it. I like it. I like you.” Thranduil breathed with a subtle grin, his nose almost touching Bard’s. “Do you like me, Bard?”

“Th-the alcohol is making you say that, stupid.” Bard reasoned with a dark blush on his cheeks, laughing a little to shoo the subject away and he pushed Thranduil’s shoulders playfully. The blonde only held him closer in response and shook his head.

“No, no, no.” he refuted.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Bard retorted.

“Yes? You do like me?”

“That’s not what I was saying yes to!”

“Would you say yes if I asked to kiss you?”

It wasn’t that he was feeling tentative because of his break up; oh no, that was the farthest thing from his mind at this point and he was grateful for it, but he was definitely shy. This _gorgeous_ guy had been flirting with him and Bard had flirted had back without much thought, and now he was sitting on his lap and they were the only two in the room. He hadn’t expected to be this close to the wine lover, or close at all, and there he was sitting on the guy’s damn lap with his hands resting on his chest. This blonde had somehow managed to get him to laugh and smile carelessly and forget about his troubles. Boy, was he in trouble.

“Why?” Bard questioned meekly and Thranduil beamed at him, fingers dancing along the stubble under his chin.

“Because I want to ask you for permission, but I won’t until I know I won’t be embarrassed with rejection.”

“You’re stunning. You’ll find someone else.” Bard shrugged with a teasing smirk. Yep, he was shamelessly playing and flirting again. He was done for.

“But I don’t want anyone else.” Thranduil argued and Bard’s heart fluttered notably. “I want to take you on a date. I’ll take you on a million dates to impress you if that’s what it takes.”

“Nice words.” Bard smiled and let his fingers run through the smooth, platinum tresses brushing his knuckles. Thranduil’s blue eyes closed and he smiled gently.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“ _Yeah_.” Bard breathed onto those pink, plush, wine scented lips and dared to lean forward, closing the space between them with a languid kiss.

With that kiss, every thought and stress flew right out of his body – who cared about some stupid breakup? He’d moped long enough and now it was time to treat himself and have a good time with a very, _very_ attractive blondie who happened to have his interest invested in Bard.

Thranduil kissed him back, as expected, and _oh was it heavenly_. It was sweet to every sense; the taste was of wine, the feel was tender, the sound was alluring, and Bard imagined they made a very pretty picture for sight (mostly because of Thranduil’s loveliness, he would say). They kissed back and forth leisurely, transitioning from soft brushes of the lips to more forceful, yet calm presses. Thranduil laid back on the floor, bringing Bard down on top of him as their tongues rolled together and little breaths and noises floated from their mouths. He could only describe each passing moment as pure tranquility.

When their embrace of lips was finally broken and they stared at each other with glossy eyes, Bard was in disbelief. This guy was lethal looking, laughed like a hyena, and kissed like a god. Was this even real? Perhaps a tortuously blissful fantasy; he pinched himself to make sure, and was comforted to know such a wonderful feeling was _really_ possessing him.

“I-I’ve never been kissed like that before.” Bard stuttered, his grin wider than ever.

“I’m glad to hear it. Will you sleep with me?”

“Um-”

“Sleep _next_ to me. I hate to bring this to an end right now, but I’m really too tired for much else.” Thranduil admitted bashfully and Bard nodded in agreement, wiggling next to the tall man.

Thranduil put his arm around him and pulled him close, Bard resting his head on the blonde’s chest that slowly rose and fell in a soothing rhythm.

“Bilbo said he’d bring blanket and pillows.” Bard murmured.

“Good.” Thranduil sighed in reply. “I’m not sorry for your breakup. I’m only sorry you were hurt by it.”

“How did you know?”

“Bilbo.”

“Figures.”

Bard didn’t mind so much now that Bilbo had revealed his silly secret. The whole subject didn’t faze him much at all, at this point. Maybe that would change tomorrow, but for now, he was at ease. They both laid still and quiet. Only one last thing was uttered between them, evoking a final puff of laughter from them both before they fell asleep: “ _Bees?”_

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, you should all follow Khalie on tumblr. She is elkykings and on ao3 she is Leiklak; she's awesome and a very talented writer! Show her some love! ^-^ <3


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